


1 a.m. Fic #3

by redtribution



Series: 1 a.m. Fic [3]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: 1 a.m. Fic, Angst, Canon Divergence, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, if it doesn't upset you that upsets me, this will probably upset you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtribution/pseuds/redtribution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Anslo Garrick pt. 2 had gone differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 a.m. Fic #3

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore the medical improbabilities, please. The only way I could see this outcome taking place is if Ressler were unconscious. This scene takes place right at the beginning of Anslo Garrick pt. 2. Trigger warning: graphic descriptions of violence.

“Well, who might this be? Someone you know, Red?” Anslo asked.

Reddington swallowed. He had held out hope until this moment that Lizzie had made it out of the Post Office, or at the very least had taken refuge somewhere. The sight of her stoic expression as Anslo’s thugs marched her across the floor sent his heartbeat into overdrive. In that instant, his mind began working through every possible outcome of her capture. It was not a promising list.

Anslo’s men removed Luli’s body, and Anslo himself grasped Lizzie’s arm and gestured to the floor with his weapon.

“Please,” he said, indicating that she should kneel. It was all the incentive Reddington needed.

He sprang into action. With laser focus, he strode to Ressler and began shaking him, attempting to wake him.

“Ressler!” he commanded, but the FBI Agent remained limp and lifeless. Reddington slapped him viciously across the face. When that proved ineffective, he jammed a thumb into Ressler’s injury, an action that would have caused considerable pain had the man been capable of feeling it. However, no limbs stirred, not an eyelid fluttered.

Reddington glanced back at Lizzie. Her face remained a mask of courage, but he could see the cracks in it. The way her brows knit together slightly, like she was holding back tears. The way her lips pressed together in a tight line. She met his eye with a look that seemed to convey comfort, but Reddington wasn’t appeased.

“She doesn’t have all day, Red.” Anslo drawled.                                                      

Reddington snatched the gun off of the floor and pressed it to Ressler’s temple.

“Harold,” he said clearly, looking directly at Cooper. “Give him the code. If you don’t, I am going to shoot agent Ressler, and Anslo will shoot agent Keen. That’ll be two people you’ve lost in the same second, do you really want to have that on your conscience?” Harold didn’t answer.

“He’s not convinced. I might have to shoot her to persuade him.” Anslo observed.

Reddington could see that Harold was moved, but not far enough. If he could just make his argument more compelling…

“Harold—”

A shot from Anslo’s gun rang out.

Reddington choked on a _“no!”_ His legs went out from under him and he collapsed to the floor, blacking out for a few seconds. When he came to, his face was pressed to the cold metal, his bloody hands on either side of his head.

_He shot Elizabeth._

Reddington felt as though something in his chest had torn. He was actually in pain, as though his heart had ripped down the center. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be dead.

Reddington pushed himself up from the floor suddenly, stumbling to press his hands against the glass door. He slid down to a crouch and peered through the blood-spattered glass to where Liz lay. _Lay._ It didn’t feel real. She had fallen backward when Anslo shot, and the result was that Reddington could see where the bullet had exited her neck. He could see the burned flesh, the torn skin, the blood…everywhere, blood. Her limbs were bent at odd angles, angles that would have been uncomfortable had she been able to feel. He knew it was Lizzie. He knew she was dead. But she couldn’t be, this corpse lying before him, it couldn’t be her. Lizzie was life and light and fire and courage. The shadow of her that he saw before him was none of these things. There was no sadness, no beauty in her death. She looked grotesque.

Reddington fell back to a sitting position. He looked down at his blood-covered hands and discovered that he had dropped the gun, probably when he fell. He set his elbows in his knees, running his hands over the short bristles covering his head. Vaguely, he was aware that all eyes were on him. He no longer cared. It was as though an old wound had reopened with a vengeance. His mind felt like it was in two places at once: here, now, and that bloody house so many years ago. The pain and regret tore through him, and he reacted without thinking. He cowered, his head sinking to rest on his knees.

“Oh dear,” Anslo said, drawing his vowels out mockingly. “It looks like I’ve upset him. Was she someone you cared for, Red?”

Reddington met Anslo’s eyes, his expression dead. “Yes,” he said, toneless.

“Shame,” Anslo said. “Maybe I should have strung that one out a little longer. Ah well, there’s still Dembe.”

That penetrated Reddington’s fog. _Pull yourself together. Dembe’s in danger. Pull yourself together._

As Anslo’s men brought Dembe to him, Reddington rose and snatched up his gun from the ground. He marched over to Ressler once more and set the tip of it to Ressler’s head. He became aware of how tired he suddenly felt, as though his chest were full of lead. He looked up at Harold, all pretense abandoned.

“I’m going to kill Ressler, Harold. You know there’s only one way out of this. Open the box.”

Cooper stared back at Reddington, his expression guarded. It occurred to Red that he was probably holding out for the Cavalry. Reddington shook his head.

“Anslo is something of an idiot, but unfortunately for you, Harold, he’s also very competitive. And I promise you, even if he doesn’t get me before the cavalry gets here, he _will_ get you, if just for the sport of it. I know the man. Don’t be a fool. No one else needs to die.”

Reddington could see before he finished speaking that it was futile. Cooper was a man of principle. He wasn’t giving up the code for anything.

“Very well,” Reddington said, turning back to Ressler. If Ressler needed to die to persuade Cooper, so be it.

“Romeo!” Came a panicked shout.

Reddington stopped. He turned his head to see Meera Malik’s pained face, a tear running down her cheek.

“Romeo,” she said, quietly this time. “The access code is Romeo.”

Cooper shut his eyes, dropping his head in defeat. Reddington looked on as Anslo used Harold’s handprint and the code to open the box. As the door swung open, Reddington walked slowly to the opening it provided, unbuttoning his waistcoat as he went. He kept his eyes on Liz’s limp form the entire time.

“Come out, come out Red,” said Anslo as the door stopped at last.

Just then, Lizzie’s phone rang. Anslo grumbled as he rummaged around in her pockets, carelessly flopping her arm out of his way. Reddington winced as it smacked the floor.

Anslo located Lizzy’s phone and answered it. “Lizzy isn’t available now, may I ask who’s calling?” he said, standing up and stepping away from Liz’s body.

Reddington stepped down from the platform with sure feet. He walked not toward Anslo, but toward Lizzie, his waistcoat in hand. While Anslo was distracted, Reddington placed the waistcoat over her marred face. After tucking the edges of the fabric under her head so as to completely cover it, Reddington placed a hand on her cheek. He could feel her depleting warmth through the cool silk of his waistcoat.

“I’m the guy that just put a bullet in your wife’s head. Bye,” Anslo said, then promptly hung up. He then tossed Liz’s phone to the concrete floor and ground the screen with his heel. Knowing he had very little time left, Reddington arranged Liz’s legs so that they were straight out and folded her arms over here chest.

“Aww, Red,” Anslo said. Reddington kept his face down. “That’s sweet. You know, I’ve rarely seen you so emotional. Did you _love_ her?” He mocked.

Reddington slowly raised his gaze to meet Anslo’s. Streaks of blood covered his face, and a sheen of sweat gave his skin a pallor. He looked positively deadly.

“Unfortunately for you, yes.” He growled.

Anslo laughed. “Ah, Red. Your problem is that you always assume you’re one step ahead of me. This time, I’m afraid you’ve already lost. Tie his hands, boys.”

Two of Anslo’s goons approached Reddington and secured his hands behind his back with zip ties. Reddington didn’t protest. Instead, he took in the sight of Liz’s limp form one last time. As painful as the exercise was, he felt he owed it to her.

“Time to go,” Anslo announced. Reddington was forced to his feet, and Anslo’s men began to lead him away. Head held high, Reddington left Lizzie behind for the last time. “Take care of them,” Red heard Anslo order before following Reddington away. As they exited the room, Reddington heard shots as Anslo’s men opened fire on the Post Office workers.

Reddington grit his teeth. His heart beat with a vengeance. As Anslo jogged past him, leading his entourage to their escape route, Reddington decided on a new mantra. _I’m Raymond Reddington,_ he thought, _and I am going to kill Anslo Garrick._


End file.
